Bootless Poem by Hannington Mumo

Ten years spun into ballooning wear
Keep slipping through tighter fingers,
Fresh year's tries in futility repair
Adamant dents of wasting days.

Ten New Year's Eves come and go
In swift succession of failing dreams;
Most astute efforts bootless bow,
Not doing a thing so prudent seems.

No tiny stone now unturned remains,
Yet progress-freezing agues fetid ail
Sharper than grim adder's fang ever sunk
Into any luck-lacking lamb's sleekest tail.

Expressionless Heaven looks on still,
As basest ills and brutish hell as one
Choke to death hope's last ray;
As faith fruitless toils beneath the sun.